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Telemachus had been in more annoying conversations than he could ever hope to count. There were the ones with his advisors, the suitors, general assholes who thought they were better than the prince for the sole reason of having a father in the home. He had long thought he was above such things, that he could move on without a care in the world.
Never before had he had a conversation with Helen though.
His mother’s cousin was every bit as gorgeous as people described, and it is easy to believe why a thousand ships had sailed in her honour. Unfortunately, many people’s words about her being a bit slow were also true.
“Son of Odysseus, before you go,” she called as he stepped away. He paused, looking back at Peisistratus, who was waiting near the entrance for them to go back to Pylos.
“Yes?” he answered. He would have preferred to leave a ladies presence so he could complain about the beard that had begun to grow overnight. He almost wished he had gone back to being a boy, for he had no interest in his new beard.
“You are a man now,” she stated. Unfortunately so, Telemachus wanted to answer. “So I wish to give you a parting gift that you can use in the future.” She waved her hand, and a slave walked over, handing her a bundle of fabric before leaving. Helen then held the bundle out for Telemachus. “When you get married, which I am sure will be soon, you can have your bride wear this dress. It is only the finest.”
Telemachus felt very awkward at being given a bridal dress. “I am sorry, Helen, but I can not take the dress,” he tried to explain softly.
Helen’s brow furrowed. “You do not have to worry about taking it off my hands, for I will never have to use it again. Two marriages is more than enough for me.” Helen was very good at missing the point it seemed.
“No, truly, I will have no use for it either, it will just go to waste.” It would sit in a closet until the fabric rotted with him. “You should keep it for when Hermione has a daughter who will marry, or perhaps for if Amphimedon gains a brain and marries someone who is not my mother. His bride would like it, I am sure.” A bridal dress was the last thing he would ever need.
Helen did not give up on trying to gift the bridal dress, for she tried to force it into his hands. “It would take many years for my daughter to bear a daughter, and more for her to grow, and I doubt my husband’s son will ever lay his eyes on another woman but your mother, until his affections are forcefully stopped. I insist that you take this, so that you can make your bride a happy woman. You can tell her that she is wearing the same dress Helen, daughter of Zeus, wore on her wedding day, and then again on the day she was stolen.”
Helen almost got the dress into his arms, but he forced it back into her own. Along with his beard, it felt as though he had gained strength overnight as well. Perhaps it was Athena’s doing. “I do not know how many times I will have to say this, but I do not need it, and I will not need it.” Telemachus looked over her shoulder, trying to see where Meneleus was. Surely he could convince his wife to let the subject go, but the only people he could see were slaves who refused to be part of the scene.
Helen frowned. “But when you get married, your bride will need a dress. Why not take the best there is?”
“Because if I am lucky, I will not marry,” Telemachus finally argued. He would have to be very lucky, but there was always a chance he could remain unmarried.
Helen stopped her pursuit of trying to get the dress into his arms, and Telemachus was able to fully place the dress on her own. “Why would you not want to marry? A man like you is handsome enough to get any wife he wants, and as many mistresses he wants as well.”
Telemachus realised a bit too late that he would have to explain himself. “The issue is that I do not wish to have a wife, or mistresses.” He hoped his words would come off as him still shucking off the boyhood he had up until yesterday.
Helen, as ditzy as people said she was, wasn’t a complete idiot. She did not say anything, but her eyes drifted over to where Peisistratus was still standing, waiting for their conversation to be done. “I see,” she muttered before a smile graced her face. “Sorry for the confusion there. Many men would be scared to admit that they find their affections drawn to others like them, but I am not someone to fear in that case. I shall stay silent on this matter, and we can all pretend that I simply gave up on trying to give this to you.”
Telemachus’ face flushed at the accusation. He could hear Peisistratus coughing in the distance, trying to cover up his own surprise. “Helen, that is a rather large jump from such a simple statement!” It was true, but she was right in saying it was better if no one knew. He couldn’t get away with it like he could have if it was discovered when he was still a boy.
Helen tilted her head with a soft smile. “But it is a correct one, yes?”
Telemachus paused for a few moments, before sighing. “Yes, it is correct.”
Helen nodded. “Well, I mustn’t keep you any longer. Do rush back to your lover, Meneleus will send you off with your gifts shortly.” Whoever said Helen was an idiot must have been lying, she was way too good at this.
“Thank you,” he muttered before returning to Peisistratus’ side with a red face.
“So she knows?” Peisistratus asked as they walked through the halls.
“Somehow, yes.” If it were up to him, no one would ever know, but unfortunately similar to how his own mother was able to guess, her cousin had the same talent.
Peisistratus chuckled as though this knowledge being shared couldn’t doom the both of them before placing his head on Telemachus’ shoulder, a rather awkward position. “I trust Helen. I think you are just too worried.”
“Someone has to be,” Telemachus argued.
Peisistratus looked Telemachus in the eye. “Then I am rather lucky to have you, aren’t I?”
Telemachus couldn’t help but smile. As long as Helen never shared this information, perhaps they could be happy with what they have for a little longer.